


but our hearts beat for the diehards

by akaparalian



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 13:30:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1471570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaparalian/pseuds/akaparalian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This has been a long fucking time coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but our hearts beat for the diehards

**Author's Note:**

> for the [hockeyrarepair](http://hockeyrarepair.livejournal.com/) prompt "Drouin/Mackinnon - winning the Stanley cup on the same team". anon didn't specify a team, and i mean hey, i'm an avs fan, what do you want from me. also, i assumed an established relationship here, because why the fuck not. : ) title from fall out boy's "thriller".

This has been a long fucking time coming - way _too_ long, if he's being honest - but even after so many years of waiting and expectancy, now that it's here he can't quite wrap his head around it. It's crazy loud, the combined euphoria of the fans and the guys and the uncountable people watching from TVs around the globe somehow all pouring in and rocking the decibel level until it's kind of hard to actually make out individual sounds, for a moment. Everyone's sort of screaming and slamming each other into hugs and Nate's lost track of who, exactly, he's clinging on to, who's shouting a garbled mixture of exhilarated babble and hoarse epithets into his ears; really, though, it doesn't quite matter, yet. He has a dim feeling that it'll matter eventually, but for now he's more than content to just be a part of a team of people pinballing off one another almost at random in pure, unadulterated glee.

They eventually get lined up for handshakes, and that's a long blur of back-slapping and rough comments about how it was a good fucking series - which it was, it absolutely was, and the reminders of that are everywhere: the Pepsi Center is packed to the gills, fans from both sides painting the stands an array of vivid colors, and he skates out the end of the handshake line to be pulled into another round of hugs and people ruffling his hair and shouting about that gorgeous fuckin' goal from the first period, and he's thanking them and saying it all back: you lit it up out there, that was one hell of a save back in the second, you're fucking incredible, man. There's that familiar, ever-present feeling of - team, and _family_ , and it's heady and amazing, but it's been long enough now, he's distant enough from the immediate afterglow of the final buzzer, that there's one person he wants to see, and he's just about to pull out of a hug and turn to look when he hears it over the loudspeaker, just snatches of noise amid the cacophony - "…onn Smythe… to Jonathan Drouin."

He spins around so fast at that that he hears one of the guys nearest to him laughing at him with both affection and mocking, but he so totally doesn't care - he's caught up in the image of Jo accepting the trophy, grin so wide his face looks like it's about to split in half, and skating slowly back over to the team with it clutched in his arms like it's a baby. Precious cargo, Nate thinks with just a touch of hysteria, and laughs even as he shoves through the revelry to go out and meet him.

They meet just on the edge of where the team - _their_ team - is still crowded in disorganized euphoria, Nate slowing down to knock gently into Jo's shoulder, very cognizant of the trophy in his arms, and beaming at him, hoping his expression conveys even a fraction of the pride and ecstasy he's feeling. Based on the look he gets in return, he's pretty confident it does, and the two of them just stand there together for a long moment, swaying slightly into each other's space and basking in the aura of pure joy that's filling up the entire rink, pouring out of their teammates and all of the fans and the coaches and everyone else in here, and centering up in the two of them until it's all Nate can do not to lean over and plant one right in the middle of Jo's huge, toothy, exuberant smile in front of God and Lord Stanley and everyone. Later, he reminds himself, and instead he just leans in and knocks their foreheads together gently. He's vaguely aware of the fact that there are still thousands of eyes on them, and this probably looks kind of suspect, and he's _definitely_ aware that if any of the guys pull themselves away from their own celebrations for long enough to figure out what's happening with their new Conn Smythe recipient, neither of them will even hear the end of this, but honestly? He doesn't give even a single solitary fuck.

"Hey," Jo says, and Nate refocuses, blinking down into a face that's almost more familiar than his own at this point, and he feels himself break into a huge grin all over again, meeting Jo watt for watt and sneaking a hand between them to sock him lightly in the shoulder.

"Hey," he echoes, and they spend one more moment like that, off in their own little world even in the middle of the incredible sensory overload that comes with a Cup win, drinking in one another's happiness and listening to the thrum of the arena all around them. But then they hear the announcer start up again, concluding with, "Ladies and Gentlemen, your Colorado Avalanche," and Gabe's skating over with the _Stanley goddamn Cup_ held above his head, and they break apart, but only so they can skate back over to their team side by side.


End file.
